


The Play's the Thing

by Shayheyred



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen, Humor, Pastiche, Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shayheyred/pseuds/Shayheyred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alas, poor Napoleon!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Play's the Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artyartie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=artyartie).



> Comment fic for the prompt "Shakespeare in the Park"

"O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain."

"Really, Napoleon," Illya muttered, if you're planning to butcher the Bard, I'd appreciate it if you kept the dialogue relevant."

"It's relevant! We're waiting for the villain, but he comes not."

Illya leaned against the wall by the exit from the Delacorte Theater and scanned the crowd. "What a waste of time. Marton's not coming."

"'Tis true," Napoleon sighed, his eyes on the departing audience. "'Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true."

"Must you?" Illya sighed in annoyance and started to turn away, but Napoleon's arm held him back.

"But soft." Napoleon gestured toward the walkway leading to the Turtle Pond. "What light from yonder window breaks?"

Illya followed his pointing finger. Victor Marton was strolling leisurely toward the pond, arm in arm with a tall silver-haired woman. "What do you know. Hildegarde von Kraken."

"Aye, verily," Napoleon replied. "Something wicked this way comes."

"We should get this information back to Headquarters. Mr. Waverly will want to know that Marton is in contact with the new head of THRUSH Europe."

"Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, all right."

"Napoleon," Illya said evenly, "we have to follow them. This is not the time for foolishness."

"Et tu, Brute?"

"Napoleon!"

"All right, all right," sighed Napoleon. "How about this: we'll get a message to Waverly about Marton and von Kraken, and ask him to put Grover and Rabinowitz on surveillance. Then what say we take off the evening and take in the 8 o'clock performance of Shakespeare in the Park? Tonight they're doing _Midsummer Night's Dream._ "

Illya shook his head. "I cannot fathom how you think. We're in the middle of a case and you want to see a play?"

"Not necessarily, Illya. I'd just like us to spend some time together." Napoleon leaned in closer. "How about the Be-Bop Club? 'If music be the food of love, play on!' Or a long ride through the park in a hansom cab? 'Journeys end in lovers' meeting'--"

"Napoleon," Illya said between gritted teeth, "this relentless pursuit is getting you nowhere. You are not Romeo and I am _certainly_ not your Juliet."

Napoleon leered in Illya's direction. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"I am not your-- Oh for--! Fine. To put it in a way you'll understand it, 'nothing can come of nothing.' Let's just get back to Headquarters," Illya growled. And with that he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit of the park.

"Ouch," said Napoleon, rubbing his wounded pride. "Oh well. The course of true love never did run smooth."


End file.
